A chip off the old block
by Punkotic
Summary: A quick one shot. The Joker and Harley are gifted with a son, little JJ; and at 5 years of age he already proves himself to be more than capable to help his father with the family business.


The club atmosphere hadn't been the same since the arrival of the newest clown, the newest heir to the criminal legacy that the King and Queen of Gotham had worked so hard to achieve. A new chess piece to the already well structured board, this particular piece was more defined, more promising. It had been a while since the Joker had obtained something with so much potential.

For the first couple months into the birth of little JJ, the Joker's presence in the club had lacked significantly. The nights were long and the Joker's attention had shifted from dealing with clients for an extra buck to changing nappies and quenching his son's stomach with midnight feedings when the little tyke demanded it. A choice he personally wouldn't have chosen; but he had fated himself with this life after the sparing of Harley Quinn to a deathbed of acid. A choice he had often doubted to be foolish, he had grown to live by it.

Gifted with a son that was pure and innocence in youth, it was the potential thought of having an heir to keep his business running that made his lips curl in a silvered smile. This is what made his past actions that little bit more worthwhile, for he no longer found fault in them.

His little JJ, the best gift that Harley would ever gift him.

His presence missed, his effort to meet the demands of his client's never wavered. For he often found himself on numerous nights a week sat perched on his favourite armchair, arms occupied with his son against his chest as he bottle fed him; his eyes would be engrossed to the tablet stationed on the table. A direct link, the Joker often carried out his sessions under the involvement of Jonny Frost.

A trusted substitute, Frost had easily proved himself to be more than willing to terminate the clients with a blow to the chest if the Joker demanded it (which was often). His eyes and ears of the club, it was on occasional occurrences that the Joker would trade a bottle for his gun. His reputation to be upheld, word often got round amongst the punters that the Joker was losing his touch; that his son had 'softened' him to no longer be the criminal that the people had once feared. An easy accusation to uplift, the Joker would make personal visits to the nightclub to silence them with the reflex of his finger on his firing arm.

Retaliated, the last thing the fools ever saw was the blue dummy that would hang freely off the side of his gun. A reminder, that it was better to leave some words left unspoken; it was the maniacal laugh that echoed which promised to make them forever turn in their graves.

The days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months; and with the maturity of little JJ who continued to shape into his own little individual; it wasn't long until the Joker had been able to return to his club. An old friend reunited, the nights proved to be easy in comparison to a wimpy child who struggled to count his sheep. And even then, little JJ proved to be more mature than the many drunkards that swayed through his club. An easy target, the Joker had the pleasure of draining their beer allowance dry at the hands of his business.

Things couldn't have been going better for him.

With the maturity of little JJ when he had finally reached five years of age, so had the maturity of his clients. No longer phased by the appearance of Harley when on the dance field, clients had learnt from the past mistakes of the fallen to not make any reference of her appearance or beauty. If they were to make any indication that she was on their minds, then it was game over. A game continuously played, it was the clients who now had the surging win streak; and for the Joker, he was infuriated. No longer given a reason to terminate the client's life with the disrespect of his Queen, the Joker knew that he had to adapt his strategy. To reclaim his territory on the board that was slowly slipping through his fingers, and that involved, the introduction of his son; little JJ.

The club night full of life, the sun had burned its way into dusk and the hour hand had only reached 7 when the clown family had finally made their presence known. Now five years of age, the resemblance that JJ had to looking like his father was prominent. His eyes a defined blue which were complimented with the curve of his small jaw, punters only had to take one glance at him before their minds screamed Joker. A warning to keep away, his appearance was complimented with the attire that his parents had picked out for him. A couple with defined taste, tonight the child wore a crisp white dress shirt that was finished with a jet black tie that matched his father's.

A small smile etched on the little boy's lips, and he looked up at his mother with admiration. "Do I look pretty today mommy?"

The infant thrived for the approval of his parents, which proved very easy for him to obtain; he just had to bat his eyelashes and the praise he longed to hear would leave his mother's lips. A trait, he had supposedly been gifted from the Joker to be constantly complimented.

"Awh, you look utterly handsome tonight my little cupcake," Harley praised, dressed in her own attire of a golden dress which complimented her figure as it comfortably clung to her hips she smoothed back the golden curl that had fallen across his forehead when he released a short giggle. "Are you going to help daddy tonight with his work?"

Three months after his first appearance in the club with his parents, JJ had blessed the Joker with his presence whilst Harley would occupy herself with the dance floor. Not a keen dancer like his mother, JJ sat cushioned between propping himself on the Joker's lap and giving his upmost attention to his mother who fussed at his cheeks. Her little clown who held her so much promise after the heartbreaking vision from the enchantress, she showered him a series of kisses and raspberries; a constant reminder to her lips that dreams do come true she kissed the Joker's cheek.

A clear sign that she wasn't subjected to favoritism she kissed his cheek again for good measure.

Twenty kisses later, JJ's own lips had become plastered with a smudge of lipstick that had retaliated against Harley's lips. A similar smile to both of his parents, his lips hinted with insanity as they had stained with red lipstick. A small joke between the three of them, Harley's fingers delicately wiped the smudged make up off of his face at the approach of Frost and the newest client.

"I'll leave you boys to it then."

Her words almost completely lost to the pulse of the music, she blew one light kiss at the pair of them before the Joker's attention turned purely to his newest victim. His strategy card perched on his lap, he offered the newcomer a smile with his silver gnashers.

"Ah, Mr. Sanders."

Sat propped on his daddy's lap, little JJ occupied himself with the Joker's gun for the duration that the Joker dealt with his client. The safety cap on, the fear of JJ shooting either of them by accident was void. Known to put his clients on edge more than anything to have his 5-year-old offspring play with a dangerous weapon, the amusement lingered on the Joker's silver lips. His own hand occupied with JJ's hair, he would occasionally smooth it down into the soft resemblance of his own hair. Smothered back, it didn't last long as the natural blonde curls would often retaliate and bounce back up against his fingers.

A past history of proven to not be reliable when attempting to expand the business, the Joker's attention span drew weary to Mr. Sanders when he grew to be tired of his presence after the first five minutes. A client he could easily replace when given time, the idea of knocking him off the chessboard proved to be the most dominant feature of his warped mind. Time was money, and with this particular session; it fit the glove.

Intrigued, the Joker's eyes trailed down to his son on his lap; not one bit interested in the meeting between the pair of them his fingers had been effortlessly trailing against the engravings on his gun.

Batter up.

"What do you say JJ, can daddy trust him?"

His fascination with his father's gun delayed, JJ offered a quick glance up at him before his gaze shifted to the Mr. Sanders sat opposite them. His first initial look at the newcomer, the back of JJ's mind speculated as the start of his and daddy's game came into the foreground. Given the option to choose the client's fate, JJ knew oh too well of how to respond to this predicament. Months after his first engagement in the family business a small smile worked its way onto his lips and he shook his head.

"No,"

Speculated to having the future of his business chosen by a child, Mr. Sander's eyebrows raised in a concocted fury of both surprise and anger. Having never once crossed his mind that the Joker could be so foolish it was the silver grin that merged on the Joker's own lips that caused the inside of him to retaliate.

"You can't be f-"

"Excuse me," the Joker warned, his teeth snarled. "I'd prefer it if you didn't thoughtlessly swear in the presence of my son. His ears take in _everything_ and I do not want him to grow up to have your vulgar mouth."

First strike.

Silenced with a closed mouth by the Joker's outburst, he had seconds to recompose himself to the Joker's menacing glare. "Mr. J, are you seriously suggesting that you're going to risk the chance of potential investment at the ignorance of your 5-year-old son's judgement?"

The Joker's eyes narrowed, "Excuse me?"

Second strike.

Alarm signals rung at the back of Mr. Sander's head, his mind troubled on how to respond without causing a potential uproar he struggled to recompose himself for the second time. "Do you think it's professional?"

The Joker let out a silvered laugh, highly entertained. "Since when have I been professional?"

Mr. Sanders tried again, "I can offer you a huge investment deal, a real boost in your business Mr. J and yet you're pushing it away at the inelegance of your son."

Third strike.

The Joker's lips curled, "Are you saying that I shouldn't trust my own son's judgement?"

"I'm only suggesting that you should take your own thoughts into consideration."

Out.

Three chances given into their unknown little game, the Joker's eyes casted down toward his son; his mind now set on the homerun his lips found JJ's ear, "Can daddy have his gun?"

The gun passed without any restraint, the back of Mr. Sander's mind screamed for him to escape; but even then, his mind told him to remain glued to his seat at the sign of Frost who had now retrieved his own gun. Stuck on the battlefield with not as much as a single weapon to defend himself, he shot a pleading look at the Joker.

"Mr. J?"

"I took your words into consideration," murmured the Joker's lips as his fingers removed the safety cap of his gun, "and I believe that my son is right." He shot him a menacing look, "I don't want to work with people who think so lowly of my son's opinion."

The cap removed, the gun glistened in the artificial light; its appearance defined like the bullets inside of the barrel it mocked Mr. Sanders. Mocked him into staring at the object that could so easily claim his life by a single heartbeat. It wasn't often that you got to stare at the end of the weapon that killed you, and for the Joker; he made sure that it would be the last thing that the client would see.

It wasn't just his contract that had been terminated, but also his life.

"Don't do anything reckless, your son is watching."

An non pleaded attempt for the sparing of his life, JJ glanced up at him. Now labelled as the client's lucky card he stuck his bottom lip out; his mind sprang confusion and yet his eyes displayed curiosity. It wasn't often that the clients would bargain with his presence for their survival.

The mood between them tense, the Joker shared a look between both Mr. Sanders and his son before he stiffened out a small chuckle. A first for everything, he raised his hands with a gestured manner; playing on Mr. Sanders game. "You're right, parental guidance and all that malarkey." His grin still present on his red stained lips the sight of the relief that washed over Mr. Sander's face encouraged him to continue, "Harley would probably kill me if I was to get blood on his new outfit, she had to throw the last one away."

Repulsed, the last trace of hope drained from Mr. Sanders face and it only grew to a defining pit in his stomach when the Joker once again reached for JJ's ear.

"Why don't you go with uncle Frost and go find mommy? Tell her that the company here has expired over its use by date."

The minimal safety that the client had whisked away at the hand of Frost as he offered it out to little JJ, the child shared one last look at the client. Not at all phased by his father's sudden request to leave, much like a puppet enclosed on its own strings; JJ went willingly. Anything to please his father at his place of work, he knew their little game to be over oh too quickly.

The boy's eyes locked on the client's, and he offered him a small sheepish smile; less than what his teeth could offer but more than what his eyes could the client caught on what JJ was hinting. A silent communication of Mr. Sander's fate, the slight humour that was inflicted on the child's eyes was enough to make the Client's stomach crawl.

A chest piece on a playing board, he had been given two choices. To either accept the loss of future investment and to promise more wealth for the Joker's greedy hands to claim so he would reconsider, or to retaliate which was branded with death; a punishment for having disrespected prince JJ's judgement.

It was all just one big game that the Joker had played with his son, and they had won.

A definite Jester lingering in JJ's personality with the potential to do so much more as he toyed with the Client's mind, his hand finally connected with Frost's. His little game with his daddy over, he knew that it wasn't going to be long now until they went home amongst chaos. The second game, mere heartbeats away; the infestation of the idea of a police chase to finish off the late night with his parents he went to go and find his mother.

Frost, patient to master JJ's antics gave the child's hand a gentle squeeze. The relationship he shared with his boss' son to be rather positive, he had spent many hours looking after the little tyke whilst his parents had been away on heists. It had now come to the point where JJ practically considered him to be family. The affection JJ had for Frost to be clearly shown as he happily left with him, another smile etched its way onto JJ's face.

"Buh bye!"

Unexpected but the right moment found, the Joker's eyes boarded onto JJ as he watched his son leave. Humoured, a silvered smirk swept across his lips that was echoed with a faint cackle.

Guided by Frost to the edge of where the session had been stationed, JJ shared one quick glance at his father; his mind turning his fingers found its way to his father's alcoholic drink. A quick dip of the fingers for good measurement, a mischievous smirk found his lips and his whiskey soaked thumb found his tongue with a gentle suck.

Humoured by little JJ's antics, Frost led the boy away from the Joker who released a hitched breath; a grin on his red lips. "The bastard, he gets that from his mother,"

The club floor chaotic as JJ searched for his mother with the guidance of Frost, the light echo of the Joker's voice was overheard over the pulsed music. A warning, not to mess with his family it was met with defiant bang when the dance floor was welcomed with the fallen thud of Mr. Sanders. The meeting sustained, it was only until the next one that the Joker would once again require little JJ's presence.

After all, it was the family business.


End file.
